The Prison of Buried Hopes (After The Rift Book 5)

by C. J. Archer

  "Do you know any Zemayans in the city?" I asked a dock worker dumping a sack of grain onto a cart.

  He looked at us, shook his head, and kept working. We moved on.

  Kitty and Meg took up the questioning too. "Do you know of a Zemayan by the name of Taaj?"

  "We're looking for a man with Zemayan coloring. Do you know any?"

  Our inquiries bore fruit very quickly when a Zemayan sailor overheard us and directed us to the shop of a spice merchant where he'd just come from delivering cargo. "His name's Taaj," he said. "And he's the only Zemayan living in the city, so he says. Don't know how he can live all the way out here in this country of sand and sweat." He wiped his brow on the back of his sleeve and gave us directions to Taaj's shop before heading off towards a ship flying the Zemayan flag.

  "Should we go to see Taaj now?" Quentin asked.

  Theodore squinted up at the sun. "It is warm out here."

  "I want to look around some more," Max said. "Taaj can wait."

  A man who'd been walking past stopped suddenly and frowned at Max. He cocked his head to the side, eyed Max up and down, and grunted. "Well fuck. It is you."

  The blood drained from Max's face and he looked as though he might faint. He opened and closed his mouth, but no words came out.

  The man laughed and clapped Max on the shoulder. "What are you, a fish?" He threw his arms around Max and slapped him on the back. "I can’t believe you’re alive! Why didn't you come home?" He pulled away, suddenly serious. "You’re in hiding, aren’t you?" His gaze darted around the docks.

  "You recognize him?" Dane asked when Max remained silent.

  "Recognize my own brother? Sure do. Who're you?"

  "What's his name?" Dane asked.

  "It's Max," the man said, as if Dane were an idiot.

  Max blew out a breath. "Brothers?" he said weakly.

  The man winked at him. "Sure."

  Max frowned. "Are we or are we not brothers?"

  The newcomer's smile faded. "Not really," he said carefully. "But you know that."

  "I've lost my memory," Max told him. "Can we go somewhere to talk? I need to learn more about my past."

  The man stared at him, his mouth ajar, then he stared at each of us in turn. He balked when he noticed the dot tattoos on Erik's forehead beneath the hood. "Max, what in the god's name are you doing with a Marginer? Did you lose your mind as well as your memory?" He laughed and punched Max in the shoulder.

  Max merely glared at him. "What's your name?"

  "Drew."

  "Take me somewhere we can talk, Drew. Preferably to the house of my family."

  Drew blinked hard. "You really have lost your memory."

  "I got hit on the head."

  Drew looked at each of us again. "And who are these people?"

  "Friends who helped bring me here. We reckoned I was from Freedland, so we came here to find my family."

  "Where have you been if not in Freedland?"

  "Like I said, I lost my memory."

  Drew ran his tongue over his top teeth beneath his lip. He made a smacking sound when he opened his mouth. "I can take you, but not them. They can't come."

  "Why not?" Max asked.

  "Can't tell you."

  Max huffed. "Do I have a family or not?"

  "Sort of."

  "Then why can't I take friends to see them?"

  Drew looked around and hunkered down. "How can I be sure they won't take the authorities to them?"

  "Huh?"

  "Look, I know you wouldn't lead the constables there on purpose, but maybe they're watching you. Maybe the reason they let you go is because they think you'll lead them straight to us. Vance would skin me alive if I was responsible for taking constables to our lair."

  "Lair?" Quentin echoed. "Are you a pack of wolves?"

  Drew pulled himself up to his full height which was only a little taller than Max, and eyed Quentin up and down. "I know you ain't a constable. They don't take skinny little turds, not even if they're desperate."

  Max grabbed Drew by the front of his jerkin and shook him. "Do not insult my friends." He let him go, shoving him for good measure. "Now take me and all my friends to this lair, or to my family, or whoever they are. Just take me somewhere where someone knows who I am!"

  Drew put up his hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. Come with me. It's not far." He led us away from the docks, past warehouses, grain stores, shipyards, and the customs house, to a series of small streets. I would have become hopelessly lost without a guide to navigate through them. The streets were not laid out in an orderly pattern. Some were curved, only to end in almost the same place they started. Some stopped at a dead end, while others diverted around buildings that looked as though they'd been dropped by the god's hand from above after a drunken night.

  As he walked, Drew snuck glances at Max, and sometimes the rest of us, but he no longer seemed worried. His earlier reluctance was replaced by curiosity. Curiosity soon turned to wariness, however, as his pace slowed and he looked up and down the street. He finally stopped at a nondescript door in the middle of a row of tightly packed cottages.

  He knocked four times in rapid succession and once more after a brief hesitation. The door opened immediately and an eye peered through the crack. The eye quickly scanned Drew then fell on the rest of us.

  "What're you doing bringing strangers here?" the voice belonging to the eye asked.

  Drew shoved Max forward.

  "Merdu!" The door swung open and a man barreled out. He embraced Max in a fierce hug, thumping him on the back and shoulders with bruising rhythm. The last thump was so hearty it made Max cough.

  The man drew back and regarded him. Then he punched his arm, hard. "You prick! Where in the god's name have you been? And why didn't you tell us you weren't dead?"

  "Let us in," Drew said, pushing past the man.

  The man gave Max a little shove towards the door then stood in front of it to block us, arms crossed over an enormous chest. He wasn't a tall man, but the muscles of his shoulders were so thick they swallowed his neck. His head look like a pea on an inverted mountain.

  "You can't come in," he said.

  "They're my friends," Max told him. "They're coming in or you have to come out if you want to speak to me."

  The doorman sized up Erik and Dane. "Vance won't like it."

  Drew rested a hand on the doorman's arm. "Vance'll be so happy to see Max he won't care if he brings a whole army."

  Kitty stepped forward. "You will let us in or I will personally see to it that Max tells you nothing about where he has been these last few months. Is that clear?"

  The doorman studied her from head to toe. A slow smile spread over his lips. "Vance is gonna like you."

  "Then you'd best let us in. All of us."

  He hesitated before giving a nod. "Remove your weapons," he ordered the men. "You can collect them on your way out."

  Dane hesitated, but Erik, Quentin and Theodore handed over their swords. Finally, Dane did too. The doorman didn't ask me or the other women, nor did he check the men to see if they carried knives. He wasn't a very good guard.

  The doorman stepped aside and we moved past him. Erik slapped the doorman on the back. "Kitty is a beauty, this is true. Your leader will adore her as much as I do."

  Kitty looped her arm through Erik's. "Thank you, Erik dearest. That's rather sweet of you."

  The doorman gave a short, shrill whistle but didn't follow us to the spacious kitchen beyond. The whistle had alerted those inside that visitors were arriving so they were all looking up when we entered. The two men and one woman sprang to their feet when they spied Max.

  The small woman rushed forward, her dark hair streaming behind her, and leapt onto Max, wrapping her arms and legs around him. He staggered but managed not to fall.

  "I can't believe it!" she cried. "You're alive! Thank the goddess, you're alive!" With her ankles hooked behind his back, she cupped his face and kissed his forehead, cheeks, ears, and nose.r />
  Max glanced at Meg. Meg studied the stone floor, her face tilted in an effort to hide her birthmark.

  Max tried prying the woman off, but she stuck to him like a limpet to a boat hull. "Excuse me, if you don't mind getting off now."

  The woman blinked at him. "'Excuse me?'" she mocked. "'If you don't mind?' Were you kidnapped by royalists who forced you to speak like you got a pole up your arse?" She laughed as she settled her feet on the floor. She was a little wiry thing of about my age with hair to her waist and big dark eyes that drank in the sight of Max. Her smile soon vanished and her eyes turned dreamy as she squeezed his hands. "You've been missed, Max. We've been mad with worry."

  "Speak for yourself," said one of the men with a broad grin. He must be related to the woman. They had the same eyes and build, and the front teeth of both were angled inwards. He embraced a bemused Max too before stepping back and frowning. "Aren't you happy to be home?"

  Max's mouth opened and shut again. He looked to Dane.

  It was Drew who answered. "Max reckons he lost his memory. He was wandering around at the docks, hoping someone would recognize him."

  The woman barked a laugh. "Is this a joke?"

  "No," Max said. "I really have lost my memory. I don't know any of you."

  The man who hadn't moved since our arrival finally stepped into the rectangle of light streaming through the high window. He was taller than all of the others with a solid frame. A small scar marked his cheek and another sliced through the black stubble on his chin. His heavy lidded gaze made him seem lazy, disinterested, but a closer inspection showed his eyes to be quick, his gaze assessing. Not only did he take in Max, but also Dane, Erik and the other men.

  "Drew," he snapped. "Tell me why you thought it was a good idea to bring strangers here."

  Drew nibbled his lower lip. "Max insisted."

  "I see no evidence that he insisted." He indicated Drew's face with a wave of his hand. The rings on each of his fingers flashed gold in the beam of sunlight. "You're no uglier than usual."

  "He didn't hit me! Come on, Vance, it’s Max."

  Vance didn't seem to have heard him. "Did he threaten you?"

  "No."

  "Then why did you bring them?"

  Drew pouted and his shoulders rounded in a stoop. He reminded me of Quentin when one of his superiors scolded him. "Because he's still second-in-command, and I still take orders from him. That ain't changed. You never told us Max wasn't your second no more."

  "I didn't think I had to, considering he was dead." There was no heat in Vance's voice, just wonder. He suddenly threw his arms around Max. When he stepped back, he sported a smile as broad and genuine as the others.

  "It's good to see you, even if you don't remember us." He indicated Dane and Erik with a flip of his ringed fingers. "Any friends of yours can be trusted. You were always a good judge of character. Come in. Sit."

  Vance's invitation seemed to relax his friends. They blew out deep breaths and exchanged relieved glances with one another.

  "Jenny, get Max and his friends a drink." Vance pulled out a chair from the central table for Max. "Sit with me. Tell me everything about your adventures. Tell us how you escaped execution."

  The room reminded me of the palace garrison with its starkness. The few pieces of furniture were functional rather than decorative, and the only wall hanging was a map of the city. Pins had been thrust through it to mark points of interest.

  Vance caught me staring at it. He nodded at Drew then nodded at the map. Drew removed the pins while Vance sat and Jenny poured ales from a jug.

  "Do you have tea?" Kitty asked, eyeing the pot warming over the low fire.

  "No," Jenny said, setting a cup in front of Max.

  Kitty pointed at the pot. "Isn't there tea in there?"

  "It's a special tea. You won't like it."

  "I might."

  "That tea ain't for you." Jenny thumped another cup down on the table in front of Theodore. "Do you want the ale or not, duchess?"

  Kitty gasped. "How did—? Ow!" She glared at me. My kick would have hurt but at least she got the message and didn't complete her question. "I won't have anything, thank you."

  "Well?" Vance asked Max. "Where've you been?"

  "King Leon's palace in Glancia," Max said. "I found work as a palace guard."

  Vance stared at him then burst out laughing. His friends too. Drew laughed so hard that he had to wipe away tears. The other man clutched his belly.

  "Forgive us," Jenny said as she placed a cup in front of Quentin. "If you really have lost your memory then you won't know why that's so funny."

  "I have lost my memory," Max said through a clenched jaw. "Would you like to tell me why it's a joke to you?"

  Vance leaned forward, still chuckling. "Because you're second-in-command of our little enterprise." He twirled his fingers to indicate the room and his friends.

  "So?"

  "How shall I put this?" Vance stretched out his legs under the table and crossed them at the ankles. "We're not the sort who become guards."

  Max just stared at him.

  "What he means," Dane said, "is that they're thieves. Thieves and guards are not usually friends."

  Vance wagged a finger at Dane. "This one's clever. Are you also a guard?"

  "I was, but not anymore. So now you know where Max has been, you can tell him about his past. He can't remember it, and naturally he's curious."

  Jenny thrust her hand on her hip. "You can't remember a thing?"

  "No," Max said.

  "Is that so? In that case…" She wedged herself onto his lap and circled her arms around his neck. Before Max could react, she planted a kiss on his lips.

  Max sprang up, dislodging her. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as his face lost all color. Meg shifted in her chair. She stared down at her hands, clasped in her lap, so did not see Max's forlorn look in her direction.

  Drew slapped Jenny's arm with the back of his hand and Jenny rocked back on her heels, laughing. "She was joking," Drew told Max. "You two ain't lovers. You never were."

  "Sit down," Vance snarled at Jenny. "Don't tease a man like that."

  Jenny sat, still chuckling. "It was just a bit of fun."

  Max tugged on his jerkin hem and sat again. "Glad this is amusing to you," he muttered. "But it's no fun for me. I don't recognize any of you. I don't know my family, or where I lived. I don't even know my last name."

  "It's Bullitt," said the man who looked like Jenny. He thrust out his hand to Max. "My name's Gillon."

  Max shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, Gillon."

  Jenny introduced herself too, all evidence of mirth wiped from her face. Vance followed suit, and added, "I'm the leader and you're my second. We've known each other since we were babes."

  Max introduced the rest of us using just first names then asked for some details about himself.

  Vance twisted the gold ring on his middle finger. "Like I said, we've known each other forever. Our mothers were friends. We got into all sorts of trouble as boys." His gaze became distant, his smile wistful.

  "What sort of trouble?" Max asked.

  "Fighting with the other boys, nicking things, playing tricks on the shop keepers. We were a bit wild. The constables hated us. We earned a reputation that only got worse as we grew up. It got so bad that the sheriff blamed us for crimes we didn't commit."

  "Were we ever arrested for these crimes?"

  "Frequently." Vance's wide grin revealed a gold tooth left of center. "We were never put away for long stretches. We mostly did petty things, thieving, defacing property…"

  "Being a public nuisance," Jenny added with a chuckle.

  "Did we hurt people?" Max asked.

  Vance lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "Not when our mothers were alive."

  Max's face sagged. "My mother is dead?"

  "Aye. Dropped dead from hard work, I expect. Same with my mother. They cleaned houses for rich folk."

  "And our fathers?" />
  "I never met mine. Yours died when you were little. I don't remember him."

  "Brothers? Sisters?"

  Vance shook his head.

  Gillon leaned across the table and tapped his cup against Max's. "We're your family. We have been for a long time."

  Vance nodded. "You and me might not share blood, but we're as close as two brothers could get." He clasped Max's shoulder, but Max instinctively jerked away. Vance's hand hung in the air for a moment before the fingers curled and he lowered it.

  Gillon and Jenny exchanged worried glances.

  Drew seemed oblivious to the snub. "So how'd you get to be a guard at the Glancian king's palace?"

  "I don't know," Max said. "I can't remember anything before my time there."

  "Did he crack his head on something?" Vance asked Dane. "Get in a fight?"

  "Not that we are aware," Dane said.

  Vance frowned. "You must have noticed something."

  Dane shook his head.

  "How'd he get work as a palace guard?" Vance asked.

  "He was good with his fists and a sword," Dane said. "And we needed more capable men like him."

  Gillon smirked. "Guess you lied about your past, eh, Max?"

  Max remained silent and didn't meet anyone's gaze.

  "Does the fact that you're here mean you aren't guards anymore?" Jenny asked.

  "We weren't needed," Dane said. "The king is dead and the dukes are in charge of Glancia."

  Her eyes brightened. "The palace is empty?"

  "Mostly."

  Vance leaned forward. "No one's guarding it?"

  Dane's lips flattened. "The remaining guards and servants are more than capable of fending off burglars. Besides, by the time you reach Mull, the next king might be chosen and the palace occupied again."

  Vance's grunt was half-amusement, half-respect for Dane.

  Max hadn't been listening to this exchange. His gaze had been focused on his cup until now. He suddenly looked up. "What was I like?"

  "Huh?" Drew asked.

  "My character? What was I like?"

  "Serious," Gillon said.

  "Sweet," Jenny added.

  "Loyal," Vance said, once again leaning towards Max. He looked as though he was going to clasp his shoulder again, but refrained.

  "You're an honorable man," Drew said quietly.